Saturday, August 29, 1987

9:57 a.m.

Bright sunlight filled the room when at last I awoke.  Indistinct noises greeted me from downstairs, but I pushed them to the back of my mind.  I couldn't concern myself with my family today.  The boundaries of my world were defined, for the moment, by the loving arms that held me.  Though I knew it wouldn't—couldn't—stay that way for long, Lee and I deserved a few precious hours of selfishness before real life intruded once again.

I smiled as his mouth grazed my shoulder.  "How are you feeling this morning?" I asked, bringing his fingers to my lips as I twisted in his arms. 

"Better.  Whole."  He let out a deep breath.  "You were right, talking about it did help."

Though I doubted one conversation had healed him, at least he'd made a start.  It hadn't been easy for him to recount the circumstances of his "initiation" into the terror squad he'd infiltrated, but I could see it had done him good to open up a little.  There was a sense of peace about him this morning that I hadn't felt in a long time.  Not since before Memorial Day weekend . . .

"I can't believe Dr. Smyth has known about our marriage right from the start."

Lee smothered a yawn.  "Yeah, the bastard had a nice little dossier compiled, which he was quite happy to shove in my face that morning at the O'Ryan Club when he 'offered' me the mission.  He must have been spying on us for months."  He caught my eye.  "You do understand, don't you?  Why I had to do this, I mean?"

"I can understand why you might think you had to."  I chose my words carefully.  My husband's equilibrium, though intact, was still resting on shaky ground.

Lee pulled himself into a sitting position.  "The threat is real, Amanda.  The men behind the new Karbala are even more unbalanced than their predecessors.  I had to stop them before they reached American soil.  I couldn't take the chance of putting you or the boys in that kind of danger."  He fixed his eyes on the barred windows.  "Fat lot of good it did, huh?"

I sat up and gently massaged his left shoulder.  I could see the springs tightening inside him again, and I wanted to avoid another episode like the one last night. 

"I'm okay, Amanda."  His voice was even and controlled as he stilled my hand.  "Don't worry, I'm not going to unravel on you again."

"I'm not worried about that," I lied.  "I'm simply trying to make some sense of what's happened, that's all."

With a look that clearly showed his skepticism, he started to explain the past few months to me all over again.  "When Dr. Smyth ordered that command performance at the O'Ryan Club, he offered me a new assignment.  Latest intel reported that Anwar Ali, Birol's superior in Beirut, was in the process of organizing a new Karbala terror squad.  'Arbaalk,' they called themselves.  As if that could disguise them.  Crum's Special Forces unit had been tracking their activities since their arrival in London.  He already had an operative in place inside their cell—"

"Your partner, Gloria."

He nodded.  "But since the threat was specifically targeted here at home, the President wanted an American operative in place, too."

"Why you?"

"I was the agent of record, the agent who'd snagged the great Addi Birol.  I knew his operation, knew how Karbala worked.  I would have turned it down—I was going to turn it down—until Smyth played his trump card."

"I don't understand."

His expression hardened.  "Our marriage.  He threatened to make it public knowledge in some very dangerous circles if I turned down the assignment.  I suppose he might have been bluffing, but I couldn't take the chance.  Not with our family, not with Phillip and Jamie . . ."

I stiffened.  "But that's blackmail!"

Lee snorted.  "At the Agency, it's called 'expediency.'  I don't really blame Smyth.  Billy, either, for that matter.  I was the most qualified agent for the job, the one with the highest chance of success.  They only did what they had to do to ensure national security was best served."

"Billy went along with this . . . this emotional extortion?"  Pain sharpened my voice.  "No wonder he could barely look me in the eye.  Did he . . . was he part of the rest of it, too?"  I bristled.  "Did the two of you conference about the most efficient way to push your wife out of your life?" 

"No, Amanda.  I managed to do that all on my own."  He turned from me, sliding down on the bed to stare blankly up at the ceiling.  "It's the first rule of psychological warfare.  Know your opponent's weaknesses and exploit them.  I saw you that night, in that bar in Bethesda.  I knew you'd followed me.  That's why I . . ."  He paused for a second then sighed heavily.  "I'm not proud of myself for what I put you through, believe me.  But Scarecrow followed the rules of the game.  He did what he had to do in the most expedient way."

"'Expedient.'  I think I'm beginning to hate that word."  I glared at Lee, unable to hide my cold contempt for a system that would sanction such needless cruelty.

Lee closed his eyes.  "In the end, I couldn't go through with it, though.  Not after you came to my apartment that night.  That's why I wrote you the letter.  I didn't want to die without at least letting you know the truth."

"Die?" I rolled on my side, frowning as I studied him.  "What are you talking about?"

He turned wintry eyes on me.  "I didn't expect to come back.  The odds said this was a suicide mission."

I drew in a sharp breath.  Suddenly it all made sense . . .the way he'd behaved, the cruel, hurtful things he'd done to drive me away.  What did it matter if he ripped apart the very foundation of our marriage?  He never intended to be around to put the pieces back together.

"I still don't know what happened to blow this all to hell."  He stared vacantly at the ceiling again.  "You, your mother, the boys—you were all supposed to be safe once I'd gone.  I can't figure out where it went off the wire, how Ali and his lieutenants put it all together.  They didn't recognize me, I'm certain of that. But there must have been something—"

"Does that really matter now?"  A sob pushed out of my throat.  "I'm glad this blew up in your face, Lee Stetson, do you hear me?  Glad!  I want you here, with me, with our family, and if national security has a problem with that, well, it can go straight to hell!"

Stunned from his moody silence, he rolled toward me.  "You won't get an argument from me on that score," he said, a small spark of life lighting his face.  "I've had enough 'national security' to last two lifetimes."

"Me, too."  I cupped his bearded cheeks in my hands, a slow grin forming.  "I can't get used to all this fuzz."

"Do you want me to shave?" he asked, his voice suddenly deep and husky.

I snaked my tongue along my upper lip and shook my head.  "Actually, at the moment I was kind of wondering what it would be like to kiss a man with a beard.  I don't think I've ever done that before.  Not really."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"   His eyes were brimming over with an odd mixture of tenderness and passion.  I watched, mesmerized, as he leaned closer and touched his lips lightly to mine.  "How was that?"

"I don't know," I said, with a happy laugh.  "I think maybe I need to try it again."

He obliged, and, as he kissed me once more, I let out a contented sigh.  His lips pressed against mine, softly at first, then more and more firmly, until the novelty wore off and the tickle of his beard on my skin became yet another caress.  I could hear the sounds of his labored breaths as he grew more and more aroused.  I parted my lips, a low moan breaking from my chest as he slipped his tongue inside.   The kiss was long and sweet, everything I could have wanted, our mouths slow and searching as we rediscovered one another.  Though I could sense an undefined urgency in his kisses, at the same time, they seemed different, more . . . tentative.  

"Lee," I whispered, when at last we parted.  "Is everything okay?"

A look of embarrassment washed over him.  "Amanda, that stuff I said to you . . . about the two of us being, uh, sexually incompatible . . ."

"Yes?"  I knew where he was headed, but I was unwilling to let him off the hook too easily.

"You know that was  . . . was . . ."

"Was what?"  Call it petty, but after everything he'd put me through, I was kind of enjoying seeing him squirm. 

"It was all . . . well, you know, a bunch of . . . of. . ."  Lee's eyes darted away from mine as he let out a frustrated groan. 

Suddenly I didn't have the heart to continue.  "Hogwash?" I supplied.

"Not quite the word I had in mind, but it'll do."  His smile of relief dissolved into seriousness as his finger followed the curve of my cheek.  "I'm so sorry.  The last thing I want is for you to doubt yourself.  You are the sexiest, most incredible woman I've ever known.  When we're together, it takes all my self-control not to drag you into the nearest bedroom and make love to you for hours."

I tapped my finger against his lips to silence him.  "Is that a threat, Stetson, or a promise?"  

He smiled.  "Oh, most definitely a promise."

I kissed him again, and, this time, he didn't hold back.  I could almost feel the emotion, hot, swirling and deep, streaming from his heart to mine.  Each touch was a tender avowal of his love, and I pressed against him with a wondrous sigh.

"Is this okay?" I asked, caressing a particularly colorful bruise with the tips of my fingers. 

"It's more than okay, but . . ." He grinned.  "Well, maybe you should take it just a little easier on me this time, tiger."

I felt a hot blush enflame my cheeks as memories of that last frenzied lovemaking washed over me.  "I'll try to restrain myself," I teased back, touching my lips gently to another large, purplish area. 

"I love you, Amanda," he said, with a sigh.  "More than you'll ever know." 

My mouth immediately found his.  The world was reduced to only the two of us, as we showed each other the love we'd so long denied.  It flowed between us, growing with each half-spoken word, until it finally crested atop the wave of our desire. 

"I love you," I whispered, drawing out the words until I could feel the warmth of them, just as surely as I felt the heat rising inside me.  I gave myself up to the exquisite feelings, sensations so powerful they swept everything else away.  They enveloped us both, lifting and spinning us faster and faster, until at last they burned themselves out, leaving us weak and dizzy from the experience.

When our breathing at last returned to normal, Lee snuggled my body in that special niche beside his.  "Dear God, Amanda, I've missed you.  Missed this.  And, just for the record, I'm not talking about sex."

I sighed.  "I think that was the worst thing about all of this.  Not feeling close to you."

His lips brushed my hair.  "Never again, I promise you."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."  My stomach growled, and we both laughed.  "But right now, I'm too hungry to think about anything else."

"Me, too.  I don't suppose they have room service in this joint."

"Not unless you want to invite Mother in here with a tray."

"Uh, no thanks.  The kitchen table will do fine."

I untangled myself from his embrace.  "I'm going to grab a quick shower.  Care to join me, big fella?"

Lee grinned.  "Now that's an invitation I can't refuse."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep.  I realized if I didn't move now, I never would.  Forcing myself to leave the warm comfort of our bed, I started toward the bathroom, but his hand held me back.

"Uh, Amanda."  He met my eyes with a sheepish smile.  "It just occurred to me.  Should we have used something?"

"No," I said, a little too quickly.  "It's okay." 

He smiled, his relief clearly evident.  I opened my mouth to tell him the reason why we had no need for protection, but somehow I couldn't find the words.  Instead, I sat there watching as he got out of bed, stretched the kinks out of his sore body and padded into the bathroom. 

He's still reorienting, I told myself as I heard the water begin to flow.  There'll be time enough later, once he gets his land-legs.  My stomach rumbled loudly again, voicing its displeasure.  Pushing off the bed, I joined my husband in the shower. 

The news had waited this long; it could wait a little longer.